Rosemary is the heart of the matter. And, for grins, a few sprigs of thyme, because I have some growing in my garden as well, and it smells pretty. Don’t even bother with the dried version of either, unless you have no choice. Nor should you stint on the olive oil—go for quality. It’s worth it, and you’ll know exactly how much so when you slosh some into just-drained, steaming hot pasta. There is nothing quite like the scent of heated olive oil, one of my favorite things.

You know what else smells good?

Yep, bacon—in this case, thick-sliced pepper bacon, but I usually try to find applewood-smoked, which releases some kind of almost chocolate-y thing into the air when it cooks (I tell you, if I could bottle that stuff …). I chop the bacon before cooking rather than crumbling afterward, because I live among bacon thieves, and the smaller pieces diminish the likelihood of entire slices wandering off. Pre-slicing also results in more consistently crisp bits, whereas cooking and then crumbling yields a mix of crisp and chewy bits. Up to the cook.

The only other ingredient in my orzo was one of those happy accidents: chicken-apple sausage, available in higher-end supermarkets. I’ve seen three or four different brands, and they all work fine. I dice them and brown them in a couple tablespoons of the bacon grease. (Vegetarian option: Instead of the meats, cube some butternut squash and roast it with sea salt, fresh-cracked pepper and some drizzles of olive oil.)

It’s such a simple entree, and yet it makes people swoon. My kids call it “Mom’s tasty pasta,” which is so corny it makes me cringe even as it gives me little shiver of pleasure. I rather like my more dignified name for it.